


Taking back what's mine

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Library, POV Pansy Parkinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: The table in the corner of the library belongs to Pansy Parkinson, everybody knows that.So why is Hermione Granger sitting there? And rudely enough, in her seat.Or five times Pansy tried to make Hermione leave and one time she really wanted her to stay.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Taking back what's mine

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was a random idea I got that I really wanted to write. :) Hope you enjoy.

**Week One:**

The old, dark wooden table in the dimly lit, secluded corner of the library in the Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry belonged to Pansy Parkinson. Everybody knew that. She had even spelled her name on the shiny surface, in gold. It was marked by her. She had sat at this exact table through school essays, homework, through gossip with Daphne and Millicent and alone whenever a boy crushed her heart. When Draco didn't want her, she'd cried until her eyes were rimmed red sitting by this particular table. It was a good table because it was hidden away from prying eyes. Nobody had ever seen her there, they usually never looked that far, when she was at her most vulnerable, and after a good cry, she would always put on some more makeup and walk away with a confident smile, already forgetting about the pain.

It was never occupied either. Until today.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Pansy asked cooly, placing both hands on her hips. Granger was not only at _her_ table, but she also sat in _her_ chair. There were three other chairs around this table and yet, Granger had chosen the one Pansy always sat in. Her things were sprawled out on the table too.

Granger looked up from her thick book—of course, she read thick, boring books; she always seemed to think that she was better than everybody else—with her eyebrows drawn together as if she couldn't quite understand what Pansy had said. Then she snapped:

"I happen to be studying, which is what people usually come to the library to do." She returned to her book, obviously meaning to ignore Pansy until she went away.

Well, unlucky for her, being ignored wasn’t how Pansy Parkinson rolled.

_Bitch._

"This is _my_ table Granger, and you’re sitting in _my_ chair. Move."

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked up again. "No, I won’t. There are other tables in this library; just choose another and leave me alone."

"But this one is mine. It has my name on it. If someone's going to leave, it's you." Pansy pointed to the corner of the table where she had spelled her name permanently on the surface. Except that it wasn't there any longer. She squinted at it as if that would somehow bring it back.

"Oh, I noticed that," Hermione said pointedly. "I removed it, in case you’re wondering. As a Prefect, you should know better than to draw on the tables. It doesn’t exactly set a good example for the younger students, you know." She said all this with an air of importance, a sort of know-it-all-voice that had infuriated Pansy for as long as she could remember. 

"How did you manage that, Granger?" Pansy couldn't help the surprise in her tone. The spell she had used to draw her name with her wand was supposed to hold through everything. Oh, she was _so_ going to hex Daphne for this—she was the one who taught her that stupid spell!

Hermione stared at her unblinkingly. "Well, with a cleaning charm, of course. It wasn't hard." She shook her head a little, but with enough force, so the unruly curls bounced on her head. Pansy had always hated Hermione Granger's thick hair; she always wondered if she ever washed it. It looked big enough for various small creatures to live in; the rumour in the girls' dormitories in house Slytherin was that Hermione’s hair was full of bugs.

_Ew,_ Pansy thought, disgusted by the thought. She scrunched up her nose, but Hermione took no notice, already returning to her book and ignoring her. Pansy coughed, she wasn’t done, but Hermione simply pretended that she was air.

"I didn’t draw on the table, by the way," Pansy said, tilting her chin up. "I marked it with my name. Because it’s _my_ table, Granger."

"So you’ve said," Hermione replied, reaching for a quill on the table and some parchment. Pansy watched her take notes of what she was reading, and it annoyed her that Hermione didn’t seem all that bothered by Pansy’s attempts of getting rid of her.

_Oh, this was just insulting!_ Pansy wanted to scream. This wasn't a good day, not only because a certain know-it-all Gryffindor currently sat in the same chair where Pansy's petite bottom was supposed to be, but because Pansy wanted to be alone. She just did. It was important. And whenever Pansy wished to be alone, this was the place to be. She wasn't the type of girl who locked herself into one of the small cubicles in the girls' lavatory to cry. It smelled in there.

"Granger, move!" Pansy repeated, wondering if she should attempt to hex Hermione or grab her by the arm and pull her up from the seat. No, she wouldn’t do that. She didn’t want to touch her. She couldn’t get away with hexing her either, could she? Besides, maybe Hermione would hex her back. No, she would report her, Pansy thought angrily, not able to decide what would be worse. Plus, she couldn’t think of a good hex right now either. Her thoughts were much too scattered—never in a million years had she expected this seat to actually be taken. _It never happened!_

Maybe that was the reason why she was so off her game today.

Hermione remained quiet, writing away and Pansy scowled. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, stupid, _stupid_ Granger.

"Fine," she muttered sullenly to herself. _Fine._

_Sit there then._

"You better not be here when I come back tomorrow," Pansy snapped, turning on her heel to find another table even though she silently promised herself that she wouldn’t. From there she would glare at the bushy-haired Gryffindor in the shelter of a bookshelf, hoping the glares would burn. _If only looks could kill._

Everybody knew it was Pansy's table. Hermione Granger sitting there should be against the rules.


End file.
